I lay down my resistance to life, to self. I welcome them here, now, to awaken through me at their ready. To the ungraspable bardo, a portal where the missing ghosts of myself have been sleeping. Last month, I wrote: Every ounce of the invisible you is needed for the journey ahead. and the truth is, things are never the same. It carried me to the furthest reaches self of consciousness. And we share so much more than water - even with those we haven't met, and will never know. To dip into all that flows here, and remember the painful ecstasy that joins us together. They were hallowed screams, attuning me to the suffering of people on the other side of the world. Voices arose from the water, the veins of our mother Earth. A train rolled by, shaking the earth in its smoldering wake. I sat by the creek where it met the river. We exist within a haunting.Īll things are made of the bones of what came before, and the inevitable promise of what will emerge next. Ghosts ARE everywhere, comprising everything. They are the comingling breath of memoriam. Ghosts were everywhere, within all things. They are isolating, slippery, mysterious, and humming with voices I can feel but not understand. I feared going into the cold dark and wet alone in the night. The folds of this mother's skirts are alluring, enchanting, magnetic. The beauty of that gorge became so immense and unknowable it was unsettling. It was a place in which I didn't matter so much.
#INDIA ARIE WORTHY TORRENT FULL#
I was sucked into the misty air, full with the glowing vibrations of flora heartier than I. That letting things die, letting things flow, letting things move is the answer. I don't know what the truth is in that other than what I feel and continuously learn via my experience. A primary one being that if we all embrace nature, everything can heal. I confess that I suffer from fervent romantic notions. I found myself camping deep in a river gorge. Inundated with shared scars of trauma, I went into the woods. The unconscious, giving birth to consciousness. Becoming like this image, swirling above, proclaiming: Inseparable. I watched the lines between victim and abuser become very blurred. I watched victims speaking up and rumblings that feel like labor pains for a changing of the guard. I watched abusers do anything they could to avoid blame and personal responsibility. I watched whiteness abuse and deny and erase and become amnesiac to its own perpetration. I saw secrets and unconscious elements of humanity emerge and splay forth into the public eye. I saw a glomming-on to anything that smelled of power. I saw a lot of holding on, a refusal to drop a thing that was dead. It was in the reactions, the emotions, the spaces in-between #metoos and personal convictions. What I learned wasn't in the words that were written or spoken. I side-eyed my way to absorbing the lessons emerging. I immersed in the cascade of trauma that spilled over the internets. I was a bystander, wide-eyed and glued on periphery of terrible fires of destruction, physical and metaphorical. I watched horrible things happen between people. I don't know what the rules are anymore, and I welcome new ones to lend themselves to discovery. I want to tell you what's happened this month. Where I don't exist. I've been in this ghastly, reflective, cavernous place most of the month. A reclusive arena where no one can find me. Knowing that means washing away familiar ground. Something wells behind my eyes, and I long for spaciousness and a witness to call that well to weeping, and to let it overcome and penetrate the soil it stands on. My body is shapeshifting in unfamiliar ways. The grief and praise of centuries, scintillating and spewing for all to gawk at.īecause feelings and implacable sensations are boiling within me. The sheer thought of opening my throat makes me fear the inevitable release. A primordial utterance arising from my loins - and the loins of all those from whom I sprang.
But because the enormity that I have to say is all-consuming, and sounds like a scream. It is hard for me to write to you this month. We reside like characters in a vibrational net, spinning stories in a web of intersecting experiences and diamonds of co-occurring connection like lights on a switchboard. It is titled "inseparable."Įverything is infected with wholeness a dancing maze of polarized neutrality. The image above communicates dark and light, swirling together ad infinitum, comprising the human existence. Not yet a member? Navigate here to sign up! The Astrological Theme for October 2017 was "Inner Realms." Members can view the full October 2017 Forecast here.
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